"Have you ever thought that you would be living in Spain?" It's a question that P asks often, and my answer is always the same: no, never in a million years had I ever imagined that we would, on a whim, move here, having never visited before, and to this particular city, as opposed to the more predictable choices of Barcelona or Madrid. Not because it's not a wonderful place to live, to be sure, but because I (like many others, it would seem) had never even heard of Valencia before.
I love Paris early in the morning. The city is slowly waking up, chairs are starting to line up in front of cafés, streets are smelling of viennoiseries. Le petit-déjeuner is often a pan au raisins.
This letter arrives months late, but with good reason, for it has been the most eventful past few months ever, we can assure you! Life-changing in many ways, both personally & professionally, the year 2015 will go down in history as one to remember always.
My day at Versailles was one of the prettiest days of my life. I personally went in knowing I would experience over-the top opulence, but I had no idea how beautiful the grounds of the palace were. I spent hours wandering alone through the forest and fields, sitting in the grass and reading, just like in the Sofia Coppola edition of Marie Antoinette. It was a dream.
IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE that it has been a month already since we were in Bordeaux, France, and if you follow...
WE ARRIVED IN PORTUGAL’S LARGEST CITY (and capital) after a quick afternoon flight, landing in driving late-November rain just after...
Unlike la dernière fois/the last time, when some four thousands photographs were accidentally lost, save for a few that lingered...
. . . have been meaning to share these photographs for ages now, from a few months ago, on a...
. . . often, in past weeks, thoughts have been drifting to the misty waters and dusky mountains of a...
A little slow with the updates, this week, I know–(sometimes there are not enough hours in a day). When I’m feeling a little overwhelmed, I think about donning my wellies à la Kate Moss at Glastonbury, or Marina Hanbury (although I probably wouldn’t wear them with a see-through evening gown) and head to the English countryside, the perfect place for repose . . .
